


My love, you have found peace (i hope relief is yours)

by LadyAlice101



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Canon Compliant, Dubious happy ending, F/M, Post Series, R plus L equals J, This is really sad, bc jon loves sansa forever, cousin incest ?? i guess, dany and jon do get married but they don't ever love each other, sansa dies, they don't have sex though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 10:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11781303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAlice101/pseuds/LadyAlice101
Summary: She dies with her blood on his jerkin, and his lips on hers.//Or: Jon gets back just in time to see Littlefinger murder Sansa.





	My love, you have found peace (i hope relief is yours)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm terrified to post this bc I'm worried about hate? Not from the lovely Jonsa fandom, ofc... maybe I'm just being paranoid. 
> 
> Nevertheless, enjoy! (If you can. Don't cry too much).

Sansa dies with her blood on Jon’s jerkin and his lips on hers.

Jon’s day had been going as well as it could. They’d won against the White Walkers only that morning, Daenerys atop Drogon and Jon on Rhaegal. Daenerys had stayed further North, but Jon needed to get to Winterfell, to get back and see his family, to see Sansa.

He flies south and lands outside Winterfell. He can hear no commotion over the sound of Rhaegal, but assumes they know he’s back; how many others will fly a dragon to Winterfell?

As soon as he has dismounted, Rhaegal roars and then flies away. Jon watches him, and tries to be surprised that he doesn’t care, that he’ll be happy to never see another dragon in his life. He’s not surprised.

The cold bites at his nose and cheeks because though they’ve ended the Long Night its still Winter. He makes his way into the gates quickly, because it’s fucking freezing. In the hubbub of camp, with fires constantly raging and people always everywhere, it has been easy to forget how cold Winter can be.

He is met with applause in the courtyard and Arya has jumped into his arms before he even knows she’s there. He meets Sansa’s eyes over Arya’s shoulder, and gods has he missed his sister and brother, but he’s missed Sansa more.

Sansa, who had somehow come to mean the world to him, who had fixed his dead heart and made it beat again, slowly, piece by piece. She had instilled a strength in him that he thought he had lost when he died. It was unspoken, what was between them, careful glances, a nervousness deep in his gut, and a single night of stolen kisses the night before he’d left to fight and they were both terrified he would never come back.

Her smile changes his world and rights it again. Everything he’s seen and experienced in the last six moons, the blood, the gore, the death, it all falls away under her stare.

“We’re glad you’re back,” Arya says to him as she slides back to the ground. “Especially me. Sansa was unbearable without you.”

Jon laughs and looks back up to the woman in question. “I hardly knew what to do with myself without her, either.”

Arya grimaces. “Best you go to her then, put all of us out of our misery.”

Jon laughs again. He moves to go to her, but Littlefinger appears beside her. Jon frowns, but doesn’t stop walking towards her.

He can’t hear what they’re saying but it becomes heated in seconds and she turns towards Littlefinger, hopefully to end the conversation. She looks taken aback, suddenly, almost frightened –

“Sansa!”

His heart in his throat as he see’s the glint of a dagger disappear, he lurches towards her.

He’s too late.

The dagger is bloody when Littlefinger drops it, and Jon catches Sansa as she stumbles back.

Her hand comes up from her stomach bloody, and she mumbles a confused, “Jon?” as he lowers her to the ground.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, his arm circling around her waist to apply pressure to where she’s been stabbed.

Littlefinger is apprehended quickly, and Arya slits his throat even faster. Jon doesn’t even look up.

Sansa is breathing quickly, her hand shaking as it covers his on her stomach.

“Jon, I don’t –“ Sansa gasps. “What’s happening?”

“I have you, sweet girl,” he says quietly. “Just listen to my voice, Sansa.”

“Alright,” she whispers. He can hear someone shouting for the Maester, but the rest of the courtyard is silent. “I feel cold.”

“It _is_ Winter,” he attempts to joke, but it falls flat. The corners of her mouth turn up anyway, blood on her teeth and rolling over her lips.

He readjusts the two of them, cradles her between his body and his legs. He keeps his arm around her and pressed down, while his other comes up to cup her cheek, his thumb running along the line of her cheekbone.

Tears burn hot in his eyes and down his cheeks as she says, “I think I’m dying.”

“No, no, my sweet girl, you’re alright. Just hold on a little longer for me.”

She looks up to him, a clarity in her eyes that frightens him.

“Jon, I need . . .”

He holds her tighter. “What do you need?”

“I need you - . . . to love me –“

“I do,” he says quickly. “I love you so much, I am so in love with you –“

She squeezes his hand and he stops talking.

“To love me enough to let me go. Can I go now?”

He closes his eyes and hugs her close to him.

“Please love me enough to say yes,” she whispers brokenly against him.

He forgets, sometimes, how much pain she’s always been in, how hard this life has been on her. His body hurts all over, as he watches Sansa, his Sansa, lose the fight she had tried to win for so long. He does not know how to deal with this pain; pain that he hoped he would not have to feel again for many years.

He should have known. He should have known that he couldn’t feel good for any long period of time. The world had righted itself only this morning, but he had spent too many years with it in on an angle for it to ever really be straight again. But he had hoped. He had hoped for a future with Sansa, and he doesn’t know how to let it go now. How to say yes to her.

He wishes he could stop the sob that rips from his throat, but he hardly realizes it’s happening.

“Yes,” he saying, crying. “Yes, my darling, you can go now.”

She pulls feebly at his hand on her stomach, and he screws his eyes shut tightly as he pulls his hand from her wound, as the blood rushes faster in between his fingers, sticky and red and tainting the snow.

She entwines their fingers together as their hands fall to the ground.

“No!” he hears Arya scream. “No, what are you doing!”

Arya kneels beside them, pushing her own hand down on Sansa’s stomach. Jon hates himself as he pulls his hand from Sansa’s and grips Arya’s wrist tightly, almost bruisingly.

“She doesn’t want help,” he grinds out.

“How could you do this?” Arya cries out. This is the most emotion he’s seen from her since before they’d all been separated, all those years ago.

“Because I love her enough.”

Sansa turns in Jon’s arms, towards Arya, her face as pale as the snow she’s pillowed in.

“You were always better equipped for this world than I, little Arya.”

“Stop it,” Arya says, struggling against Jon’s firm grip. “Stop talking like that, Sansa. Jon, put pressure on it, for fucks sake!”

Sansa turns away from Arya, so Jon does, too.

“What’s it like?” she asks.

_Nothing. It is black, and void, and you see nothing and feel nothing._

“It’s easy.”

Sansa looks into his eyes, and all she see’s is a love so deep he is breaking apart at the seams.

So she says, “Kiss me, Jon,” so the last thing she’ll see are fireworks behind her eyes as he kisses her.

He leans down slowly, and against her lips he whispers, “You are the love of my life.”

“You are mine, too.”

He kisses her gently.

She dies with her blood on his jerkin, and his lips on hers. The courtyard is silent as he sobs into her hair.

* * *

Jon doesn’t die for many years after that. Daenerys dies first, six name days before he does. He has already lost so much in life, he can hardly mourn the wife he never really wanted.

He denies the throne and instead passes it onto their firstborn, and Rhaenyra becomes the Queen he’d always thought Sansa would be. He is proud of his daughter, but as she gets older, he is only reminded of what could have been.

He strives to make a good match for their daughter. Daenerys worries about the political side of it all, but Jon talks to every one personally. He and his wife scream at each other about it a lot, and one day Rhaenyra asks him why it matters to him so much that her husband is brave, gentle and strong, but she is too young for the gruesome story when she asks, so he doesn’t tell her until after she’s married, after her mother has died.

“And you still love her? Sansa?” Rhaenyra asks, to clarify.

“I still love her,” Jon confirms softly, wistfully.

Rhaenyra sits back. “I am glad you made me a match with the potential for that.”

Their two sons, Jaehaerys and Benjen, he raises to respect everyone equally, to never underestimate anyone based on who they are or where they’re born, and Daenerys doesn’t object to Jaehaerys being married to Arya’s daughter, who becomes Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North as soon as she comes of age and Bran can pass it on.

He establishes a match for Benjen with the heir to Highgarden, but Jon dies before they are married.

When he dies, it is with his three children by his side and Sansa’s lips on his mind. 

* * *

 

Dying is easier than he remembers. That he remembers anything at all is surprising, because last time it was as he told Sansa. Nothing.

It’s nicer, too. He can feel her, hear her. It’s cold, very cold, but he almost feels alive.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you.”

Jon turns. Then breathes.

“Sansa.”

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty sure Dany is actually barren in canon, but I wanted to put in kids at the end so Jon does actually have a life after, but that he still always thinks of Sansa.


End file.
